


Cosmic Joke

by Lilas12



Series: Alex Manes Appreciation Week 2019 [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Romance, alex manes appreciation week 2019, getting back home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilas12/pseuds/Lilas12
Summary: Malex - Zombie AU - Nothing, not even the end of the world can stop Alex from trying to go back to Michael.





	Cosmic Joke

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys, here is my second contribution to Alex Manes Appreciation Week 2019.
> 
> I chose to do a Zombie AU because I'm a die hard fan of The Walking Dead!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy it. As always, I would like to thank my awesome beta @bisexualalienblast.
> 
> Happy reading ^^

**Alex Manes Appreciation Week – Day Two – AU**

**Zombie AU**

 

**Cosmic Joke**

 

Alex used to think that his entire life was nothing but a cosmic joke. But now, he's not so sure anymore.

Because if Alex had not been in the Air Force when everything had gone to shit, he probably wouldn't have survived for that long. When he was younger, before his abusive, homophobic dick of a dad had forced him to enlist, he used to be a sweet kid. All he wanted to do in life was play music and make out with his boyfriend. And even if he had never been weak, Alex knew that he would have died like the others.

He was still unable to see his enlistment as anything other than a punishment and an everlasting tear on his heart, but as the same time, it had been a stroke of luck, really. The saddest, cruelest flick of fate, but still a gift.

Because, without his time in the army, Alex would have died. Without his survival training and combat techniques and military tactics, he never would have found his way back to  _ him _ .

When the epidemic had started, Alex had been on his way back from Iraq. As soon as he had put his feet (left foot, to be more accurate, the right one having been blown to pieces a few weeks prior) on US soil, Alex had immediately been briefed on the apocalyptic situation.

Corpses were coming back from the dead and were attacking the living. Refugees camps had been overrun by the plague. Zombies, fucking  _ zombies _ were a fact. And the world as he had always known it, was ending.

Instead of panicking or being horrified by the gruesome truth, the only thing Alex had been able to think about was  _ him _ . Where was  _ he _ ? Was  _ he _ safe? Was  _ he _ still alive? At this very moment, as if answering his inner musing, something warm and pure had sparkled inside of him, a burning fire of life and hope. Alex had then plastered a hand on the left side of his chest and smiled.

He could feel  _ him _ there. Yes. _ He _ was alive.

Alex had tried to keep his calm and focus on the orders he had been given by higher channels. He had really tried. But, when the chain of command had asked him to bombard an entire camp full of still living and innocent people, he had snapped.

 

Filling his backpack with military rations and weapons, Alex had stolen a car and drove south. Back to where he belonged. Back to Roswell. A part of him repeated it was useless, that his sleepy little hometown was probably no more, overrun by the dead, like so many other cities in the world. But Alex had faith. And he had to know. He would never be able stop without the absolute certitude that there was nothing and no one for him to go back to.

Alex needed to make sure  _ he _ was still alive. Buried deep inside of him, there was still this unyielding warmth, this perpetual feeling that pushed Alex on and on and  _ on _ .

Toward  _ him _ . Always  _ him. _

So, Alex drove. When his car broke down, he took his crutch and his backpack and started to walk. On the way, he crossed path with many groups of survivors. Some peaceful, some... not so much. But, being seen as a weak, disabled man quickly turned out to be an asset. People dropped their guards when they saw his limp and crutch and that always gave him the advantage. It saved his life on countless occasions, allowing him to outsmart the robbers and killers and to attract people's sympathy.

All in all, everything that had happened to him had a purpose and his cosmic joke of a life had allowed Alex to survive. To keep on going. To find his way back to  _ him _ .

Some of the groups he met asked him to join them, but Alex always shook his head. He had somewhere he needed to be. He had someone waiting for him. He told his story to a few, about the hazel eyed, curly haired boy he had fallen in love with 10 years ago and he would go to hell and back to find again. Most people told him he was crazy, that this guy was probably long dead, but Alex only shrugged.

They didn't know. They would never understand. The little fire still burning inside of him was still urging him on.

_ He _ was alive, somewhere, and Alex would find  _ him _ . No matter what. Nobody, living of dead, would stop him.

After months of travel, near death experiences and overcome dangers, Alex finally stopped in front of the old and decrepit sign of his hometown.

 

Roswell – New Mexico

 

The little spaceship on the corner was broken and there was traces of dried blood splattered on it, but it didn't stop Alex.

_ He  _ was close. He could feel it in his bones.

When Alex reached the main street, he felt like the entire cold and dead world had been dropped on his shoulders. He felt heavy, weak and ready to collapse. Everything around him had changed. He could barely recognize it. He had seen devastation and desolation before, but to see the ravages of the end of the world on this place, his hometown, his home... it was too much.

But he had to go on.

So, like always, Alex straightened up. He quickly realized a few living corpses have moved toward him. He seized the machete tucked at his belt and beheaded the first one with practiced ease. After months on the road, the dead had become more of a nuisance than a real danger to him. As long as he avoided hoards, Alex could handle them. It was the living who were the real threat.

Alex turned to face the second zombie, when he suddenly saw that his presence had actually attracted a bunch of them. At least twenty walking corpses were weaving their way toward him, skinless, gaunt arms outstretched to try and get to him. He could not fight them all. He had to hide, quickly.

Alex ran inside the first building he found and when he realized where he was, he couldn't help but let out an incredulous little laugh.

Of course he would find shelter inside the UFO Emporium of all places.

Making sure the doors were bolted and there was no traces of danger inside, Alex couldn't help but look around. The place had been trashed and nearly all of the exhibitions and models had been completely destroyed. But, on the right corner, something caught his eyes.

Two replicas of flying saucers were still hanging from the ceiling painted like a starry night sky. They were covered in dust and dirt, but they were intact, dandling there, like an echo of the past. Alex felt his heart squeeze painfully as he walked forward, until he was standing just before the spaceships, at the exact same stop where his entire life had changed forever, 10 years ago.

Alex could still feel it...  _ His _ hands, cupping his face...  _ His _ lips pressing against his...  _ His  _ arms coming around him... Their shared breath... Their beating hearts... The love, the bliss, the hope for the future.

It was while standing there, this head filling with memories of past kisses and laughs and blind happiness, that Alex finally collapsed. Dropping on his knees, he barely felt his bad leg throb and ache. The complete agony that exploded in his whole body was just too much. He had seen the streets of Roswell. He had witnessed the devastation, the floor scattered with corpses, the smell of death and the absolute silence.

There was nobody here. The entire town was dead, cold and empty. He had been holding on to an illusion, a pipe dream. All of it had been for  _ nothing _ .

_ He _ wasn't here. Of course  _ he  _ wasn't. Because as much as Alex's love for  _ him _ was everlasting and immortal, they were just humans. Made of flesh and bones, all of which were a feast for the dead who had conquered the world. Sometimes, love wasn't enough.

Alex was feeling like everything in his life had always been meant to lead him here. Back in his hometown, endlessly searching for the long lost love of his life. That's all there was to his pointless existence. A cosmic joke.

Expect for those few months with  _ him _ , so long ago, nothing had ever made any sense to Alex.

But he was alone now... Everything was dead and useless.

It was cruelly ironic that Alex finally broke and lost hope at the exact same spot where his life had actually begun. He would die here, under the starry ceiling and the old space shuttles. He would perish and decay, but at least he would be close to  _ him _ . It would be with the memory of  _ his _ face dancing in front of his eyes and with the ghost of  _ his _ kiss on his lips.

Alex cried. He cried, because he was lost. He cried because nothing mattered anymore. He cried because the fire in his heart was still burning, but it was just a  _ lie _ . The cruelest of all, because, despite his despair, the warmth was increasing, becoming nearly scorching and making Alex choke and gasp. It kept on growing and growing, fueled by an outside force.

Something was happening...

And suddenly, he felt the cold barrel of a gun digging in the back of his neck. Alex slowly stood up and froze, his hands held in the air. It was obvious the stranger threatening him had no military experience. In a swift motion of his upper body, Alex turned around, blocked the assailant’s arm and took the gun from his hand in just a few seconds. Now armed with an old python, Alex let his soldier instincts kick in.

His entire body, still prickling with adrenaline, didn't allow Alex to notice anything but facts for a second. All he saw was the silhouette of a man, tall, disheveled and wearing a cowboy hat. His razor sharp gaze went from his belt, where several knives were tucked around the biggest buckle in history, to finally focus on his scowling face and then...

Time froze. The entire universe seemed to simply  _ stop _ . And everything collapsed.

Alex blinked once, twice and then, he saw. The man was tall yes, and lean. His silhouette was still familiar to him, even after 10 years. He was standing straight, but seemed to suddenly sag on himself. His chest was heaving wildly and he was trembling. Despite the hat, unkempt curls were peaking all around his face. That face... it had haunted Alex's dreams and enthralled his days. He was still the most handsome man he had ever seen. He had stubbles now and his features were more defined, sharper, only increasing his beauty. His eyes,  _ holy shit _ , they were even more intense then he remembered, their hazel color nearly golden, with a little green in them. And he was now watching him as if Alex was the most wonderful and heartbreaking of illusions.

They both stayed stunned, staring at each other for far too long. Alex still had a gun pointed at  _ him _ .

It couldn't be real. He must be dreaming. Or he had been bitten by one of the dead and he was now hallucinating. Maybe he was already dead.

But it didn't matter, not when he was standing in front of  _ him _ , so close Alex could feel his warmth engulf his entire body. Not when he could smell spice and sweat and sand, bringing him back into the past, his nose pressed in the hollow of his neck.

Not when... _ Michael _ , was here. Alex could finally allow himself to think his name.

A single tear escaped his eyes and Alex felt his heart soar and swell, life finally infusing itself back into his veins. Michael let out a shattering sigh. His face was wrecked with a heartbreaking awe. He looked more beautiful than ever. Michael took a step forward, the barrel of the gun digging into the naked skin of his chest.

He still seemed unable to button his shirts right... Alex sobbed a little laugh at the thought.

They both lost themselves in each other's eyes again, scared and hopeful, their entire life hanging by a thread. Until the fire in Alex's chest finally exploded. It felt like a crash landing, like a downpour of shooting stars, like a cosmic burst. It wasn't a dream. It was him. It was Michael.

Alex simply snapped. He dropped the gun to seize the lapels of Michael's jacket and smash their mouths together. Arms came to wrap him into a tight embrace and it was a little smothering and painful, but Alex didn't care. It was the proof they were alive and real. Soon, Alex was too busy devouring those sinful lips that moved against his, kissing, nipping and biting as their tongues met to battle and tangle and waltz until they couldn't stand it anymore, forcing them to part.

Their foreheads found their usual place, as if no time had passed, resting gently against one another as they shared the same air.

“Michael...” Alex sighed, finally able to breathe properly for the first time in years.

“Alex,” Michael answered, his blinding smile evident in his voice.

Alex's heart soared joyfully. “I've found you.”

Michael's arms tightened around him and he let out a dreamy little laugh.“I always knew you would.”

And then, Alex realized he had been right all along. Yes, his entire life was a cosmic joke, but it was at the world's expense, not his. Because no matter what, even after the freaking Apocalypse and the end of the fucking world, he and Michael had always been meant to find each other again.

Always and forever.


End file.
